On My Record Player Part 7

So, I really cant say at this point that I have ever been a fan of The Doors. I have casually listened to them through random radios and on certain soundtracks over the past 10 years, but I never took the time to listen to them like I am now. I acquired their Debut Self Titled LP from leftover records my uncle left my grandparents house and I got this an inheritance. I usually like to write a review with an anecdote, but here I am raw, just alone with the music. One of the main things to hear out in this band’s music is their prominent use of the organ as a lead melodic instrument. I get a feeling of some anthemic biblical storytelling in the mood of much of their compositions. A special kind of poetry in music put into motion. Jim Morrison has a very dark gravitating force in his voice and soul that is very enjoying to connect with. The groove and jamming on “Light My Fire” is hypnotizing. There is a profound sense of honesty and heart in the communication of the group playing this classic work of art. I didn’t realize how innovative this band was as far as starting long jam recordings that expanded the known structure of rock and pop music. I feel like music like this can only really be appreciated at its best when played on a record player. It has the Bohemian spirit that reminds me of laid back hispter stoners living in the city that reject new technology and nightclubs and come together with their close circle and get together to be artistic and talk about the deep issues of life and creating magnificent ideas of the future. I like the vibe.

Rolling Stone – 5 out of 5 stars.

The Doors arrived in 1967, the same year as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band; both were psychedelic touchstones and among the first major rock discs that truly stood as albums, rather than collections of songs. But whereas the Beatles took a basically sunny view of humanity, the Doors’ debut offered the dark side of the moon. Their sound was minor-keyed and subterranean, bluesy and spacey, and their subject matter — like that of many of rock’s great albums — was sex, death and getting high. On “End of the Night,” the band invited you to “take a journey to the bright midnight.”

The key to the band’s appeal was the tension between singer Jim Morrison’s Dionysian persona and the band’s crisp, melodic playing. Keyboardist Ray Manzarek and guitarist Robby Krieger’s extended solos on the album version of “Light My Fire” carried one to the brink of euphoria, while the eleven-minute epic “The End” journeyed to a harrowing psychological state. Scattered among these lengthier tracks are such nuggets as “Soul Kitchen” (“learn to forget”) and Morrison’s acid-drenched takes on the blues (“Back Door Man”) and Kurt Weill (“Alabama Song”). Though great albums followed, The Doors stands as the L.A. foursome’s most successful marriage of rock poetics with classically tempered hard rock — a stoned, immaculate classic.